Chapter 175. Swordsmanship Festival (2)

“Don’t worry. I’ll bring the finest swordsman to represent the Nadan Kingdom.”

Ransel Grantz’s bold promise.

When he heard those words, Duke Kremer Kubel’s heart was filled with warmth. He believed Ransel, whose character was as exemplary as his swordsmanship, wouldn’t lie.

But the “finest swordsman” he met after waiting a month and a half was, frankly, far less impressive than he’d expected.

“No, ‘unimpressive’ isn’t the right word… He’s just too young.”

Yes.

Harang was so young that calling him youthful felt inadequate.

Had he just turned 20?

Of course, his well-trained physique and balanced gait were impressive, but that was from the perspective of evaluating a promising talent. It wasn’t suitable for selecting a swordsman for the main stage of the Seton Swordsmanship Festival.

“I’ll win the swordsmanship festival.”

“…Haha!”

And yet, his confidence was remarkable.

Win, he said.

The audacity to claim first place in a stage where the continent’s finest swordsmen gathered!

That boldness deserved praise.

Chuckling, Duke Kremer Kubel asked a few questions.

“How old are you?”

“I turned 22 recently.”

“What’s your level? Are you definitely a Graduate?”

“I’m a Graduate. I also received a Special Gold Plate from Austin, the head of the mercenary brokerage.”

“Hmm… If you’ve earned that strict man’s approval, you must have tremendous potential.”

Duke Kubel smiled with satisfaction.

So what if he was a bit boastful or overly confident?

Such flaws would naturally be corrected by facing stronger opponents. Kremer Kubel focused on Harang’s potential and talent rather than minor shortcomings.

“Reaching Graduate at 22 means he has even greater talent than Ransel Grantz… We must secure him. Even if it means petitioning His Majesty for a title, we need to make him a pillar of the kingdom!”

Of course, Harang was already a citizen of the Nadan Kingdom, but the future was uncertain. Other nations, sensing his potential, might offer immense benefits to recruit him.

With that thought, Duke Kremer Kubel softened his stern expression and gave a warm smile. He said,

“Yes, winning… You certainly have the skill to entertain such thoughts. If I’d reached Graduate at 22, I’d feel the same. Like the world was at my feet, confident I could defeat anyone short of a Sword Master.”

“Uh, well…”

“But that mindset won’t let you aim higher. There’s always someone above those who run. Today, I’m willing to wield the whip for my dear junior, to help you break through your arrogance and limits and reach a bigger world. I hope you won’t be too hurt.”

“…”

“Do you understand?”

“Hmm… So you want to spar?”

“That’s the idea.”

Harang looked slightly troubled.

It was a mistake. If he’d openly shown his strength from the start, the duke wouldn’t have misunderstood, but by suppressing his presence, things had gone this way.

“But I’ve lived as an assassin for 15 years. Openly displaying my strength feels unsettling.”

If anything, it was a habit.

Though it had led to this awkward situation.

But Ransel Grantz didn’t seem to think so.

“Lord Harang, go all out.”

“What? Full strength?”

“It’s better than holding back. Hiding your skill could be seen as deceiving Duke Kubel.”

“Hmm… Is that so?”

“That’s what I think, at least.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Duke Kremer Kubel asked, puzzled, and the two fell silent with awkward expressions.

A hint of displeasure crossed the duke’s face.

He couldn’t help but feel slighted, thinking they were having a conversation excluding him.

“…I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Well, it’s…”

“Forget it, forget it. Let’s test your skill. To report accurately to His Majesty, I need to know your level thoroughly… You’re not going to back out now, making your earlier words look empty, are you?”

“…No, sir.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Harang nodded in response.

Duke Kremer Kubel smiled with satisfaction, while Ransel Grantz looked at him with a hint of pity.

“I hope he doesn’t take it too hard…”

But moments later, Ransel Grantz’s concern became reality.

BOOM!

BOOM-!

BOOOOM!

“Huff! Ugh! Haa!”

A relentless storm of sword strikes!

Unbelievably fast.

Unbelievably powerful!

In a desperate situation, as if facing the god of swordsmanship, Duke Kubel had no choice but to drop his sword. Confirming the outcome, Harang spoke with a slightly apologetic expression.

“Is this enough to verify my skill?”

“…This can’t be. This… can’t be!”

“Uh… Duke Kubel?”

“This can’t happen. I, Kremer Kubel, the greatest swordsman in the Nadan Kingdom, lost to a kid in his early 20s?”

“Duke Kubel! Calm down! It’s not that you’re weak! It’s just that he’s too strong…”

Spurt-!

“Oh no! Medics, medics!”

“What’s happening?!”

“The duke has collapsed!”

“…”

Unable to withstand the extreme stress, Duke Kremer Kubel vomited blood and collapsed.

Watching the knights, medics, and priests scramble to treat him, Harang thought,

“Maybe I should show more of my presence at the swordsmanship festival. Or would that be more troublesome?”

It was a dilemma not easily resolved.

***

Ten days had passed since Duke Kremer Kubel’s collapse.

During that time, Harang enjoyed comfortable days with the full support of the Nadan Kingdom’s king.

It was only natural.

A monster who defeated the kingdom’s First Knight, Kremer Kubel, in his early 20s. Neglecting such a talent and losing him to another nation would be the height of folly.

Thanks to this, Harang was provided with a spacious private training ground to focus on his practice, but his expression showed no signs of brightening.

Infusing emotions into swordsmanship.

Channeling the anger from Allen Meir’s death into his aura.

These thoughts kept complicating his mind.

“…I’d better not use this unless it’s an urgent situation.”

Sheathing his aura sword, Harang muttered.

It was the right call.

Swordsmanship that maximized negative emotions was undeniably powerful, but it sickened the mind. It felt like a demonic contract, trading immense power for one’s lifespan—a technique with significant risks.

That wasn’t the path Harang wanted.

“What would the beggar old man think? Did he anticipate this outcome? Did he tell me to focus on emotions despite knowing this?”

He couldn’t tell.

While the old man clearly harbored goodwill toward him, assuming that goodwill would always lead to positive outcomes was dangerous.

“So what should I do?”

Click.

Harang sheathed his sword and closed his eyes.

Countless emotions flashed through his mind and vanished.

“Most of them are positive.”

In the village, that would have been unthinkable, but the past two years in the outside world had been enough to make Harang more positive.

The precious bonds he formed in Marzen.

The fascinating artifacts he encountered while traveling the continent.

The joy of delicious food and fine liquor, and countless other happy moments.

Of course, not everything was bright and warm.

Ulrik’s death, for instance. And Allen Meir’s death.

Those moments were mere blips in the two years, but they were so intense and vivid that they overshadowed all the positive emotions.

“That’s probably why. They’re so intense… that’s why they can be infused into swordsmanship.”

With a sigh, Harang exhaled.

Positive emotions were too faint to be woven into swordsmanship.

Negative emotions were intense enough but poisoned the mind.

What should he do?

How could he overcome the flaws of both and maximize his swordsmanship’s power without risk?

Harang closed his eyes, thinking, pondering, and mulling it over.

But.

“…I don’t know.”

In the end, no answer came.

With another sigh, Harang opened his eyes and started walking somewhere.

Toward the training ground where Ransel Grantz was practicing.

“What emotions do others wield their swords with?”

He was especially curious about a Sword Master’s emotions.

Not all Color Sword wielders strengthened their swordsmanship with negative emotions. Heitz of Acanthus honed his blade with cold anger and vengeance, but Harang didn’t believe the paladins of the Holy Kingdom wielded their swords with such negativity.

There had to be another way.

He just didn’t know it due to lack of experience, but there must be a better method.

With that thought, he soon spotted Ransel Grantz and observed him wielding his sword for a considerable time.

“…It’s complex. Hard to read.”

Since the beggar old man’s advice, Harang had become better at reading others’ emotions.

But Ransel Grantz’s emotions were too intricate to summarize in a single word.

He felt pain, but also fulfillment. Joy, yet also self-pity.

“Are these emotions I can reference?”

He didn’t know.

But he decided to ask.

Nodding, Harang approached Ransel Grantz, who was taking a break, and asked.

“What emotions do you hold when you wield your sword?”

“You’re asking about the emotions I wield my sword with? Lord Portville said he swings his sword with pride for his family… Honestly, I don’t understand that at all. It’s no reference for me.”

“Hmm…”

“Is it a rude question? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Seeing Ransel Grantz hesitate, Harang spoke. He didn’t want to pressure him into answering.

But the hesitation was brief.

Nodding as if he’d made up his mind, Ransel Grantz slowly opened his mouth.

“Do you, Lord Harang, have someone in this world you consider a rival?”

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